


Pick a Colour

by AmidalaDrake



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-17 18:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13664862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmidalaDrake/pseuds/AmidalaDrake
Summary: Dick reminisces about a game he once played in the circus, resulting in hijinks.





	Pick a Colour

Tim was instantly distracted from his DNA analysis that he was doing on the recent mob fight – someone new was trying to make their make on Crime Alley, and he wanted to find out. The voice once again bled into his racing thoughts. “Tim, pick a colour!” Tim turned to face a rather hyperactive Dick. _Who let him have access to Alfred's homemade fudge?_ He sighed heavily, resigned to the fact that he had to take part in whatever game Dick was trying to play, before he could get back to the real task at hand.

“What do you mean, pick a colour, Dick?” He inquired, as he spotted a weird shape of folded paper that Dick was so carefully holding towards Tim’s face in an almost aggressive manner, if it wasn’t for the massive grin Dick was showing.

“I was talking to Damian about games I used to play whilst in the circus, y’know to pass the time or whatever. I mentioned the fortune teller that got given to me by the resident palm reader who claimed that it would 100% tell the future. That one was lost about five minutes later, but I still remember how it was made. And… here you go! So, once again, pick a colour and I will ~tell you your future~!” Dick hurriedly explained, bouncing on his toes like a child. The piece of paper was now touching Tim’s nose, and he pushed it away. “Fine, I pick…” Tim looked at the for colours on the top of the shape, “Blue”, and he sat back in his chair to watch whatever Dick was going to do next.

“Blue, okay B-L-U-E” Dick moved the paper four times, showing that there was something written inside on each side of the paper. “Right, now you gotta pick a number” He said, once again shoving the paper in to Tim’s line of vision.

“Uh, seven” Tim peered into the paper, and chose the first number that he saw, desperate to get his analysis finished so he could finally think about getting this case wrapped up. Dick moved the paper seven times, and showed a different set of numbers, “Pick another number” he proclaimed, getting more excited after every decision. He was nearly vibrating with energy, and this only served as a reminder as to how little sleep Tim had had over the past days…weeks. What he wouldn’t give to bottle up that energy and take it as a shot or something.

“Three… seriously Dick, how long is this fortune telling going to take? I’ve got at least five open cases that need reviewing and I need to write up my brief of yesterday’s board meeting at WE before I meet with the new chair on -”

“-This is it” Dick interrupted, and pushed open the slip of paper with the number three on it, turning the paper so he could ‘read Tim’s fortune’, “Prepare to move house soon. Oh Tim! As if you would ever leave the Brownstone. Besides, you don’t even live there enough to even think about moving!”

Tim smiled, and said nothing, knowing that there was atleast some truth in Dick's words. He turned towards the PCR machine, in hopes that Dick would just move on. “Yeah Dick, you’re right. Obviously that fortune teller doesn’t work unless your palm reader friend blesses it first or whatever. Now, if you don’t mind…” He gestured towards the machine and Dick took a few steps back. “Yeah sure thing Tim, thanks for letting me reminisce for a while, even if it didn’t work. See ya!” He waved and made his way out of the Batcave, probably in search of Damian and further distractions.

Tim stared at the machine whirring away, thinking about what Dick had said. It was true he loved the Brownstone house that he had renovated himself, with his own private dark room and state-of-the-art computing system. He couldn’t imagine moving somewhere else. But, he thought, there is something to be said about the dangers of living alone. His bedroom always felt too far away from a viable exit - that wasn’t the window that dropped out on to the street - that he never really slept in it, tending to just pass out on his sofa in the living room as soon as he came in from patrol.

He was once again brought out from his thinking process, by the beeping of the PCR machine, saying that the amplification of the DNA was completed, ready to be purified and tested tomorrow. Tim stood up, and cracked his back, _god he needed a new_ _sofa_ , pushing back his chair. The case files could be done back home and really he ought to have a shower and get some sort of food before he started flinging himself off rooftops tonight.

Stepping into his home, he turned off the alarm system and brought in his bag of takeaway food from the Chinese place down the road. The place was silent, and as Tim walked through to his kitchen he thought about the comparison to his home and the manor. With Damian moved permanently back in, and Dick more often than not being there, if only to raid Alfred’s kitchen for goodies, the whole place seemed more… alive.

Tim ate his dinner reviewing the case files that were desperately needing to be completed and reviewed, and left the remains to go and have a shower. He played music off his waterproof Bluetooth speaker, and started singing along to whatever came up from his playlist. It was eclectic to say the least, but no-one was there to judge, so if he wanted to listen to Dua Lipa, who was going to stop him?

He finished off and got out the shower, noticing that there was a sound coming from the living room. He kept the music playing, to provide the intruder with a sense that he was still unaware, and crept into the living room. He took note of the hidden ‘weapons’ that were near him, but none were within arm’s reach or would be able to be grabbed without notifying the intruder, so he kept moving towards the sounds stealthily. He neared the door to the living room and paused to prepare himself for an attack.

Munching noises were increasing in volume, and Tim stopped. Then he heard a mutter of “Mmm, crispy seaweed, the best!” and rolled his eyes. He rounded into the room and sighed in annoyance.

“Jay that was going to be for after patrol you ravenous idiot” he moaned, exasperated at his now still-as-unwelcome, food-eating, non-intruder. Jason didn’t even lift his head in acknowledgment of his reveal. Instead, he continued to destroy a perfectly well preserved orange chicken and egg fried rice. Tim stood next to the sofa and looked down at Jason, he sighed and sat down next to him, hair still dripping down his neck.

“Babybird, you know what they say about Chinese food” Jason mumbled with a mouth full of DEFINITELY NOT HIS prawn crackers, “you eat a meal and ten minutes later you’re hungry again.” He paused in his eating, and sat back against the sofa, turning towards Tim.

Tim glanced at Jason and huffed a breath. “Yeah, I know Jace, that’s why there were plenty of leftovers for me to have after patrol, alone” He crossed his arms and pouted briefly. Jason snorted quietly and reached an arm behind Tim’s back so that he could lean into him. “Well, how about I cook breakfast as repayment for me nicking your food” He looked pleased at this arrangement, and who was Tim to deny that way of thinking? Home-made food was home-made food and Tim had had enough of rushed takeaways to last him at least a month. He smiled at Jason and nodded his head. “Fine, but there better be blueberries in this repayment” Tim leaned further in to Jason’s hold and relaxed his tensed muscles. Jason laughed in agreement.

“So, babybird, how was your day? Make anyone cry at work?” Jason enquired, raising an eyebrow at the last sentence. Tim laughed and muttered “Geez, you make a person cry once…” and then louder said “Well, no, but I did have my fortune told by Dick”. Jason blinked and smiled wide at this, holding Tim closer in his embrace. “So, what’s it gonna be? You’ll be a millionaire? You’ll become famous? ‘Cos hate to say it Timbo, but that stuff is kinda true already” Jason released Tim and let him move forwards on the sofa, so that he could properly see Jason.

“No, he said I was going to move house” Tim, took a breath and looked at Jason.

Jason had stopped moving and looked almost worried, and Tim immediately thought that Jason had taken this the wrong way, and hurriedly said, “Well, Dick said it was basically bogus, so it’s not going to happen” trying to placate an apparently stressing Jason.

Jason grabbed one of Tim’s hands and Tim stopped talking, glancing at Jason who had now moved to be face to face with Tim. Jason laughed and rubbed his other hand over his face and then hummed. “Hmm, damn Tim. Kinda beat me to the punch there didn’t you”. Tim furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head at the strange thing Jason was blurting out of his mouth. Jason continued, “Here I was, just got my key to my place remade, literally just picked it up this afternoon, and Dickiebird goes and guesses my secret”. Tim made a questioning noise and shuffled towards Jason. “Well, cat’s out the bag Timmers, so how ‘bout it.”

“How about what Jay?”

“How about we start living together”

Tim stilled and took note of his surroundings; worn out sofa, coffee table covered in papers, TV constantly showing GNN. He listened to the never forgiving rain outside, pummelling on his windows. He noticed the slight crack in the corner of the room – need to get that looked at. But mostly he thought about where Jason naturally fitted in. He just became a part of Tim’s home until he _was_ Tim’s home. Tim didn’t need the Brownstone to feel comfortable, anywhere that Jason was, he felt that he belonged. And really, that was all he ever wanted. To belong.

Jason grabbed Tim’s other hand and moved so that he could look into Tim’s eyes, “Look, it mightn’t be the best place, and heck, it’s smaller than here, but Tim, I just wanna make you blueberry pancakes every morning. Honestly, that sounds like a dream. So, hey, let’s move in together. Keep this place if you want, or we could find a whole new place, whatever you want-“

“-Sure”

“Sure what?”

“Sure lets move in together, Jason.”

“Yeah? You serious”

“Yeah, dead serious”

“Well, I am the only one to know about being _dead_ serious. But wow, okay, yes, great, good, fantastic. So we move in together.”

“We move in together”

Jason leapt up from the sofa and reached for Tim. He twirled him around in a big circle, leaving Tim’s legs dangling in the air like some sort of rag doll. Tim laughed out loud and shouted “Jay! Put me down!”

He was carefully put down back on the ground to see a beaming Jason who only had love in his eyes. Tim smiled and turned towards the hallway. “Alright then, we’d best get started on making good memories of this place, before we start looking for a new place to christen then huh?”

Jason joined Tim in the bedroom.

~

Later, Dick was pestering Damian once more, “C’mon pick a number! It’s the last step!” Damian tutted and finally gave into Grayson’s demands, “Fine, six”

“You will meet a handsome stranger”

“Well that’s just outright stupidity, Grayson. Remove that object from my sight”


End file.
